It feels so fucking good having Kaylee's body against mine.

I pull her a little closer.

Soak in a little more of her.

Fuck, I can't remember the last time I wanted to cuddle after sex.

That I fucked someone I cared about.

I'm not used to the feelings flooding my gut.

I want to lay like this with her forever.

I want to get my hands on every thought in her head.

I thought I had it bad before.

I had no fucking idea.

* * *

What is it Kaylee isn't telling me?

Em might know. She's sitting on the couch, tapping away at her laptop, quiet concentration spread over her face.

The device sings with the Facebook notification sound.

She isn't working. We can talk.

But it's not like I can ask her hey, know any secrets Kaylee's keeping? I need to be smart about this.

I plop on the couch and turn on the TV. "You think Kaylee's happy here?"

"I didn't realize you cared." She closes her laptop, stands, leaves it on the table. Then she collects the dishes on the table and brings them to the sink.

I can't help but chuckle. "You wouldn't have done that last month."

"I like her more than I like you."

"Who wouldn't?"

The water in the kitchen runs. Ceramic clinks together. "Are you really spending Friday night at home?"

"You have a point?"

She moves into the living room. Brushes her red hair behind her ears. "You've been staying home more."

"And you're here because?"

"Did your last date scar you or something?"

"No. Just busy. With the shop."

"Like that Seinfeld episode?"

I arch a brow. Emma loves 90s sitcoms. And 90s Disney movies. And music. It's weird.

"Where George's girlfriend has mono, so he doesn't have sex for weeks, and it makes him smarter."

"Maybe. Am I smarter?"

"I don't think so. Maybe you need to wait longer." Her voice is light. Teasing. Like normal.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Emma takes a seat on the couch. She looks to the TV. "Can we watch The Americans instead?"

I nod. "Why are you home?" I copy her words. "Your last date scar you?" Shit, I usually don't worry about Emma and men. She's tough. She can hold her own. And I'd rather not think about what exactly my sister does in dark movie theaters. But guys can be shit. If someone crossed the line, hurt her— "Do I need to kick someone's ass?"

"No. I'm just kinda... I'm more matchmaking right now." She turns to me with a curious expression. "You've been weird."

"I thought I was always weird."

"Well, yeah. Extra weird." She studies me. "You and Kay have been hanging out a lot."

"And?"

"It's just weird, don't you think?"

"Why?"

"You're kinda old."

"Wise."

"Eh."

I chuckle as I flip her off.

She laughs as she returns the gesture. "It's been making me think about Mom and Dad, what's happening to Kay's grandmother."

"Me too."

"I miss them. I know they were assholes to you, but—"

"They're still your parents." Only I don't miss them. Not exactly. I never let my head go to that place.

They're gone.

Our chance to reconcile is gone.

But was there ever a fucking chance?

Nothing would have convinced me to be the clean cut, high achieving son they wanted.

They had points. I skipped too much school, hung out with too many burn outs and druggies, gave too much lip.

But there was a fucking ocean between who I was and who they wanted me to be.

And I was never going to cross that.

It's easier to push everything aside.

They're gone. I don't dwell on that. I've never had the mental space. Not really. I had no fucking idea how to take care of someone when I was appointed Emma's legal guardian. And taking care of a teenage girl who'd just lost her parents—that wasn't easy.

It filled that space. Kept me from thinking about what it meant, Mom and Dad no longer existing.

I still don't let my head go to that place.

And I don't want to.

"I hated them too," Emma says. "For a long time. It was their fault. I always knew it was their decisions to lock you out."

"It was both of us." I don't want Emma picking up my baggage. Things were still good with her and our parents. That should be her lasting memory.

"But you showed whenever they didn't. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't want to be around."

It's true. I always want to support Emma. Even when she pisses me off. "It was complicated." But it wasn't, not really. Mom didn't want me around my young, impressionable sister.

"Was it? Why'd they have to draw that line."

"You have to draw it somewhere." I get it, now. I really do. It's hard being a parent. You try your best, but a lot of times you fuck that up.

"I guess." She leans back into the couch. "Maybe you are wise."

"Only maybe?"

She nods. "You... you annoy the crap out of me, Brendon, but you... you're a good brother."

"High praise."

"I'm trying to be earnest. It's not my forte." She stares into my eyes. "I know I was pissed about everything with Kaylee, but I was wrong. I'm sorry. You were just looking out for her. And for me. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Me either."

"Huh?"

"She's half the reason why you're in college now."

Emma nods. "You push college a lot for someone who barely graduated high school."

"And?"

"It's very parent like."

"I'm your legal guardian."

"Not anymore. I'm eighteen."

"You want to move out and pay your own rent?"

"Are you really throwing down an ultimatum?"

"No." I'd never do that to Em.

"It's just. I do appreciate you taking care of her. Even if I think it's weird you two are hanging out so much."

"Thanks."

"And... I do appreciate you taking care of me too." She leans in for a hug. "I love you."

"Love you too."

She settles back into her seat and nods to the TV. "Okay. Enough feelings. Let's watch some spy action."

I chuckle. Em is funny nervous. It's rare. "You working two Thursdays from now?"

"Why?"

"I have a surprise. For me, you, and Kay."

"Same as every Thursday. Four to eight."

"Good. You two can meet me at the shop. We'll go together."

"What is it?"

I shrug who knows.

"Don't make me take back everything I said."

"You won't."

"Try me."

"I am."

She folds her arms. "Fine. I won't take it back. This time. But only for Kay's sake."

"She's my saving grace."

"She really is."

* * *

I disappear into my room to work on a mockup. When I reappear downstairs, Emma and Kaylee are giggling over ice cream sundaes.

Emma nods to me then motions cut it.

Kaylee's eyes light up with that we have a secret look.

"I miss something exciting?" I ask.

Emma shakes her head. "Hair stuff."

"Girl talk." Kaylee nods.

Emma waits for me to move into the kitchen. She leans in to not quite whisper to Kay. "You think you're going to do it again?" She looks to me. Motions go away. "The hairstyle."

"Yeah. I think this is my new hairstyle."

"But you... Uh..." My sister's brow furrows.

She's not exactly being subtle. They're obviously talking about sex.

But Emma is staring at me like it would be hell if I found out.

Huh.

Emma leans in to whisper.

Kaylee whispers back. She stands up and smooths her jeans. "I'm going to see how it goes. See how long I want to keep up this..." She pats her tight ponytail. "Hairstyle." She picks up her empty mug. "You want more?"

Emma shakes her head. "No. Sugar will keep me up all night. And some of us have work in the morning. Why do I get all the early shifts?"

"You request them," Kay says.

"No. That was some weirdo who inhabited my body. I hate mornings."

"You hate working nights."

"Mmm. Maybe." She stands to throw her arms around Kaylee.

They exchange another set of whispers.

Then Emma is nodding good night and heading toward the stairs. "Don't grill her, Brendon. Consider it a personal favor."

"What do I get out of it?" I tease.

"I'll watch Lethal Weapon with you," Emma says.

"And the sequel?" I tease.

Emma groans. "Fine."

She's been objecting to the possibility of watching Mel Gibson as a cop who plays by his own rules forever.

Kaylee watches Emma move up the stairs. Crosses to the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hey." I wait until Emma's door slams shut. Then I grab onto Kay's hips, pin her to the counter, and press my lips to hers.

She tastes good. Like sugar and salt and chocolate.

She groans as she pulls back. "We should be careful."

I nod as I pin her hips to the counter.

"Brendon."

"You want me to stop?"

She looks up at me with those doe eyes. "God no."

I don't. I let my tongue claim her mouth. I let my hands untuck her over-sized button up shirt then roam beneath it. Fuck, her skin is soft and the way she groans against my lips as I slide my hand into her bra—

This is reckless.

But I need her too much to care.

"You should have warned me." She rises to her tiptoes to whisper in my ear.

"That?"

"I'd become even more obsessed with you." She slides her hand into my hair. Her touch is eager. Needy. "I want you again. I want you to fuck me right now." Her voice is confident. Her blush is slight. I'm already corrupting her.

The thought makes my balls tighten. "Can you stay quiet?"

"I don't know." She sighs as she tugs at my t-shirt. "I'm tempted to try."

Fuck, I love the sight of her wracked with desire.

But I need to be smart here.

I step backward. "Tomorrow."

She nods. "I... uh..." She grabs her mug. Places it in the sink. "You want to watch something?"

"Who is it Emma thinks you fucked today?"

Her cheeks flush. "Well. I kind of let her believe I'm into Dean."

"Dean?"

She nods. "And that we, ahem, today."

"She thinks you fucked Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. I thought Em had a higher opinion of you."

Kaylee play swats me. "He's not that bad."

"He's not?"

She nods.

"News to me."

"You really think he's awful?"

"He has moments." I motion to the TV. "It's my turn to pick."

"Oh no. It is. How incoherent are we talking?"

"We'll see." I slide my arm around her waist. To lead her to the couch. But I'm not doing that.

I'm sliding my hand under her shirt.

Pressing my palm against her bare skin.

"Brendon..." She sighs as her hips rock against mine. Her fingers skim my thigh. It's a soft touch, but it's enough to wake up every nerve in my body.

I pin her to the kitchen counter. "We shouldn't." But I'm already undoing her top button.

"I know." She rocks her hips, sighing as she rubs against my hard-on.

"Em just went to sleep."

"I'll be quiet. I promise."

I get to the last button. My hands plant on her lower back. One slides between her shoulder blades. It unclasps her bra.

She shrugs her shirt and her bra off her shoulders.

She's topless in the middle of the fucking kitchen.

That smart part of me—the one that's supposed to remind me this is a bad idea—is gone.

I'm too fucking enraptured by the sight of her.

"Fuck, Kay." I undo her ponytail and slide my fingers through her hair. My palm cups the back of her head. I pull her into a slow, deep kiss.

She groans into my mouth.

I drag my lips down her neck. Over her collarbone. Over her breast.

She groans as I take her nipple into my mouth.

Fuck, she tastes good.

I toy with her. Flicks of my tongue. The scrape of my teeth. Sucking on that tender bud.

Her groan is music, but it's way too loud.

I bring my hand to her mouth. Slide my thumb between her lips.

She sucks on the pad of my finger.

Groans against my flesh.

Fuck, that feels good.

I move to her other nipple. Toy with it until I can't stand the way she's sucking on my digit.

I drag my lips over her collarbone, up her neck, right to her ear. "Turn around and plant your hands on the counter."

Her nod is trusting. Obedient.

She brushes her ass against me as she turns.

Her ass feels so fucking good against my crotch.

I hold her body against mine and explore very inch of her torso. Her tits are perfect in my hand. Soft. Responsive. Mine.

It echoes through my head.

Mine, mine, mine.

I want every inch. Every groan. Every thought in her gorgeous head.

Slowly, I slide my hand over her side.

I undo her jeans and push them to her thighs.

She sighs. Arches her back. Presses her ass against me.

Fuck, those cotton panties. Sweet. Like her.

I push them off her hips.

Slide my hand up her thigh.

Fuck, I need to be inside her.

I bring one hand to her mouth, to muffle her groans, and rub her with the other.

She shudders. Shakes. Nips at my fingertips.

But she keeps her hands planted on the counter.

"Good girl." I suck on her earlobe.

"Brendon," she groans into my hand.

She's wet. Ready. But I need her on the edge. I need to be the only fucking thing she wants. I need my name to be the only thought in her head.

I rub her slowly. Softly.

She rocks her ass against my crotch. Driving me out of my fucking mind with her soft flesh.

Still, I toy with her.

I rub her until she's shaking. Until her fingers are digging into the counter. Until my hand is only barely muffling her groans.

She's about to come.

This is exactly where I want her.

I pull a condom from my back pocket and push my jeans to my knees. Then the boxers.

Her bottoms are still at her knees. They're binding her legs.

"Please," she whispers. "Fuck me. Now."

"Quiet."

She nods. "I can. I will. I promise."

I bring one hand to her pelvis. Pull her body against mine.

She sighs as my cock presses against her ass.

Fuck, that feels good.

Her flesh against mine.

Nothing in the way. I need that. Soon.

But right now—

I bring the foil packet to my teeth and tear it open.

Slowly, I roll the condom over my cock.

Then I place one hand over her mouth and the other on her hip.

She leans forward, arching her back, presenting herself to me.

I'm about to fuck Kay in the fucking kitchen.

And there isn't a single voice in my head telling me it's a bad idea.

She wakes up a reckless part of me.

A happy part of me.

I slide a finger into her mouth. She sucks. Greedy. Eager.

My tip strains against her.

Slowly, I slide inside her.

Fuck, she feels good.

I drive into her again and again.

Harder.

Faster.

Hard enough to pin her to the counter.

She sucks on my finger.

Groans against the digit.

Fuck, the feel of her soft body against mine.

Of her groans against my flesh.

It's fucking heaven.

I fill her with steady thrusts. Again and again.

She pulls back to gasp.

I claw at her back.

She rocks her hips. Groans my name.

It's a whisper. But it's enough to send me over the edge.

I bring my lips to her neck to suck on her skin.

Thrusting into her as I come.

I spill every drop.

Fuck.

It's like I haven't come in months.

Every part of me feels good. Relaxed. Spent.

But I need her coming too.

I muffle her with one hand. Slide the other down her torso.

And I stroke her. Harder and harder. Until she's groaning against my palm.

There. I keep that same pressure. That same pace.

I stroke her until she's coming on my hand, groaning against my palm, clutching at the tile.

I keep her pressed against the counter.

And I tilt her head and bring my lips to hers.

And I kiss her like I'll never get enough of her.

Because I won't.

Not ever.